the candy bar

Signs As More Small Feelings
  • Aries: snapping a candy bar into half
  • Taurus: hot showers after swimming
  • Gemini: when you have the aux cord and someone asks "what song is this" and that means they like your music taste
  • Cancer: using the same brand of shampoo and conditioner and your hair smells and feels heavenly
  • Leo: drinking cold water and feeling it go throughout your body
  • Virgo: using skin/hair care products that actually work
  • Libra: the cold side of the pillow during a hot night
  • Scorpio: matching your underwear and bra and thinking you look bad asf
  • Sagittarius: making a whole group of people laugh
  • Capricorn: opening a new jar of food and it's swirled perfectly
  • Aquarius: swimming at night and it's pitch black but the pool lights are on
  • Pisces: when the person you've been waiting to talk to's name pops up on your phone
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Halloween at Wayne Manor
  • Every kid in Gotham knows to hit up Wayne Manor on Halloween, they give you MULTIPLE REGULAR SIZED CANDY BARS!! none of this fun-size shit
  • They also have a separate bucket of small toys for children with complex food allergies 

  • Best decorations in town, it’s go hard or go home and Bruce never backs down from a challenge, cobwebs everywhere, GHOSTS! mother fukcing PUMPKINS!!!
  • Bruce isn’t allowed to answer the door because he lets all the kids dressed up as Batfam and Wonder Woman have as much candy as they want and gives dental floss to those dressed as clowns, also kids dressed as Superman but he’ll deny it
  • Damian:*Carves a pumpkin with a really ugly face* Drake! come at once! Tim: *Sigh* what? Damian:*Smirks and turns the pumpkin to face Tim* it’s you
  • Food fight in the kitchen with the scooped out pumpkin flesh
  • Almost everyone wears costumes to make Dick happy
  • Dick once forced Damian into a child’s Batman costume, Damian was outraged by the plastic Batarangs, Bruce totally didn’t have tears in his eyes fuck you
  • Jason never wears a costume no matter how hard Dick pouts at him, this leads to an array of replies when people ask why he’s not in costume e.g “My muscles are too big to fit in any costume” “I’m dressed as a sinner” “I’m dressed up as a serial killer. They look like everybody else” “I’m dressed as the miracle of life” “a pumpkin killed my parents, how dare you”
  • Tim once dressed as a Ghostbuster and wouldn’t stop trying to hoover up Jason and Damian
  • Stephanie and Cassandra always dress in matching or related costumes, it’s super fucking cute 
  • Dick: Where’s your outfit, Alfred?? Alfred: *pulls out a pair of rabbit ears and places them on his head* I am a bunny Master Grayson. Hop. Hop
  • Barbara dresses as a mermaid which AmAZES!! all the kids, cause it totally makes sense!!! her red hair which means she’s related to Ariel #kidlogic
  • Dick:*Dressed as Dracula* I want to SUCK YOUR BLOOD!! Jason: You can suck my di- Bruce: LANGUAGE!!
  • Batcow, Titus, Alfred the cat, and Goliath all have home made costumes made by Damian
  • Dick always gets sick from eating the most candy, he says he’s doing it to save everyone else from having cavities, he’s a dirty liar
  • Tim: *Walks around Walmart pointing to decorations* Spoopy
  • Jason: Raisins!??? RAISINS?? who the hell gives raisins on Halloween Bruce??? Monsters that’s who
  • Little kid: *See’s Jason as Red Hood on Halloween* what are you meant to be mr? Jason: I’m a used tampon Others: *through the comms* JASON!!!
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shitty advice of a college student.

OR: some (actually helpful) stuff my first semester of college has taught me.

disclaimer: this is from the point of view of a community college student. my experiences may be different from other students, but overall I think this list could be very helpful to anyone going to a college, university, high school, or for any students just hoping to kick procrastination in the ass. I’ll probably be uploading updated versions/parts of this in the future, but here’s some stuff based on my experience so far.

  • do. work. every. day. even if it’s just a little bit of work. don’t procrastinate.
  •  college isn’t like high school; oftentimes, professors won’t expect homework from you every single day of class. usually, you’ll have due dates of when large sections of assignments or papers are due. make the most of your time. do not wait until the night before to get 6 sections of homework done by 11:59.
  • in reality, you should be doing homework and studying for every single class. but remember that you need to put more time into the classes that are toughest for you. For example, math is my weakest subject so I usually put more homework time into doing my Stats homework.
  • if you don’t want to do it, or have been procrastinating on doing it, it should be the thing you’re getting done first!!
  • books are hella expensive everywhere. if you can’t find any free versions of your textbooks online, try to buy your textbooks used. I buy all of my textbooks used, with the exception of one book which I’ve rented. Personally, I recommend buying your books bc it’s a great study strategy to actually own the books for your classes and be able to write and highlight inside of them… but this is a personal preference.
  • doing homework on your bed makes you lazy. work at a desk, library, coffee shop, outside; anywhere that will make you sit down and focus.
  • let your phone run out of battery and leave. it. alone.
  • if u don’t have a planner/agenda/calendar already then there is nothing more I can help u with pal ur on ur own
  • make a study playlist bc you’ll need it at some point. find music that helps you study the best! for example, I strictly can only study to soft music or just instrumentals, but I know some people who study really well to rap and hip-hop. find what works for you! remember this should relax you, not distract you.
  • hydrate. I keep a water bottle right on my desk when I study so when I look up I’m reminded to take a sip. being hydrated is important!!! not only will this make your body and skin happy but it’ll also make your brain work a little harder and focus more!
  • I know things can get tough and busy but pls pls eat and sleep well I’m begging u
  • follow-up to the last point: let yourself go pee as many times as you need to. it’s ok. it doesn’t count as your break. you’re not wasting time from doing work. do us all a favor and go to the bathroom already.
  • follow-follow-up: know the difference between taking a break and giving up.
  • learn how to say no to temptations like hanging out with your friends or distracting yourself in the depths of Youtube and Netflix. you have work to do and you know it!!! don’t make yourself feel bad by suffering. if you want good grades, your education (next to your mental/physical health) should be your first priority.
  • reward yourself for working hard. this could be a night out with friends, a candy bar, boba, whatever floats your boat.
  • I know it’s a drug but I don’t care what anyone says: if I need to drink coffee then I’m drinking that damn cup of coffee.
  • priority-wise, your education should always top your studyblr. every. single. time.

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

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Ok, so... this show is – without hyperbole – the single worst piece of Scooby-related media I’ve ever watched.

And this is coming from someone who analyzed every single episode of Scooby’s All-Star Laff-A-Lympics.

Alright, look. The New Scooby and Scrappy-Doo Show is… argh, how to put it….

Imagine watching a 10-minute condensed version of a Scooby-Doo episode, in which random things have been added and subtracted… all for zero reason.

Why, look! No Fred and Velma in this series! Why’s that?

no reason. They just… aren’t there.

What dynamics does it change within the group, and how does it affect the stories/shenanigans?

it doesn’t. Everything happens as usual, just… minus two people.

Subtract two characters, and add the canine embodiment of pandering and obnoxious non-importance. That’s the show.

Sorry, Scrappy, but… well, at least the story revolved around young Anakin. He’s got you beaten there, friend.

But forget the random character changes – it’s all miniscule in comparison to the rest of these bizarre, 10-minute fever dreams.

After great reflection, I can find no other way to describe the experience of the show besides this: 

Things just happen.

They went to an allegedly haunted house, and now there’s a face in the fireplace for one scene, because there is!

Now, they’re scared of the face in the fireplace!

Now, Scrappy says some words from his face hole!

Now, there’s a ghost playing the piano, because there is!

Now, they’re scared of the ghost playing the piano!

Now, there’s a floating rhinoceros head in the living room, because there is!

Now, they’re scared of the floating rhinoceros head!

Now, there’s a random living statue, because there is!

Now, Scrappy many words says talk hole from!

Now, there’s a skeleton all gussied up for sunday brunch while Shaggy looks like he’s flirting with it and OH SWEET GOODNESS MY BRAIN IS MELTING

…ok, this is making the show sound way more interesting than it actually is.

Because when you actually watch it, it’s an incoherent, unfocused, bizarrely-paced, unstructured, redundant jumble of things just happening.

Remember when you saw all those classic Scooby-Doo elements ‘n’ plot archetypes in the older shows?

Want to see those same things all over again, but crammed haphazardly into an incomprehensible fun-sized candy bar of visual and auditory suffering…

…while Scrappy-Doo slowly sucks out your soul?

Then this is the series for you.

it’s too late for me

save yourselves

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